


Straight guy worries he's being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes he's fallen in love with him

by fshep



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Jealousy, M/M, No Actual Homophobia, Post-Canon, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fshep/pseuds/fshep
Summary: Plot twist: it turns out Yosuke doesn't have any problems with Yu kissing guys if it's Yosuke he's kissing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this ages ago after reading this (VERY sweet) [article](http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/straight-guy-worries-hes-homophobic-gay-roommate-ends-falling-love/#gs.mCZg558).  
> i couldn't stop relating them to souyo, so! here's what came out of it.

When Yosuke comes home from work to find Yu sitting on the couch with a stranger, he doesn’t think much of it.

Yu’s like a magnet. Throw him into a new environment and he’ll return with additional scraps of metal. Scraps of metal that are shaped like friends.

… Okay, so it’s not the perfect analogy. The point is: Yu Narukami has a gift for getting along with anyone and everyone. Yosuke had suggested that he study public relations for this particular reason; lo and behold, he is. Maybe this guy on the sofa is in one of Yu’s classes. Maybe they’re working on an assignment together. Yosuke doesn’t envy that kind of situation, which is why he forfeited the idea of higher education altogether.

He’s doing just fine at their nearby Junes, thanks. Assistant manager at age 19 _without_ the help of his dad? He’s _going_ places.

The thought puts him in a good mood. “Yo!” he greets, like always. Yu looks up like he didn’t hear Yosuke come home, his shoulders perking in mild surprise.

His (friend? classmate? coworker?) lifts up a hand in acknowledgment. “Hey.”

“Welcome home,” says Yu. Introductions come quickly. “This is Kei Katsukawa—my classmate.”

_Called it. Am I good or what?_

“Yosuke Hanamura,” he quips back, grinning amicably at Kei. “Nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise,” he responds politely. His head bows once, and then he’s back to studying the stacks of books and papers in front of them.

Yosuke quirks a brow and glances at Yu, who has turned his attention to Kei. He segues back into their pre-Yosuke discussion with ease (it’s about the assignment, so Yosuke can’t find it in himself to be insulted) and adjusts a folder in his lap.

Pursing his lips in thought, Yosuke glances into the kitchen. There’s a pizza box, wide open, displaying a few leftover slices. He snipes them immediately, stacking one on top of the other and biting into them like a pizza sandwich. Made exclusively with pizza. Shuffling toward the fridge, he retrieves a can of soda, shoots one more curious look toward the pair on the couch, and absconds to his bedroom.

Maybe it threw him off, just a little bit. They have a routine, he and Yu. Yu’s a better cook, hands down, but Yosuke doesn’t want to leech off of his partner’s blessed skills _all_ the time. He knows a few recipes and Yu seems to like them, so when Yu’s looking particularly worn (sunken eyes, disheveled clothes, clammy pallor), he pushes him toward the living room and claims the kitchen for the night.

Inevitably, Yosuke bitches about customers, their ignorance and attitudes, and Yu recounts what happened during class that day. So far, Yosuke hasn’t heard anything that inspires the need to go back to that educational hellhole.

Then, they might watch a movie. Or call their friends in Inaba. Maybe extend the conversation past school and work and instead veer into contemplative territory, discussions of life and death. (Or, more likely, the plot of the last video game Yosuke had beaten and Yu had watched him do.)

Yu retires to his room earlier than Yosuke to do homework. More often than not, he spends hours poring over his books until he passes out, and it’s such a habit that Yosuke makes a point to swing by Yu’s room in case he needs to turn off the light or pry a hardcover textbook from underneath his best friend’s spine.

Without all of that, Yosuke’s a little thrown off. It’s so _early_. He plops down into his desk chair, chewing contemplatively at his pizza-on-pizza sandwich, and ultimately decides to play a game. Something multiplayer, social, violent… Yu never sticks around long to watch something like that, as it bores and annoys him more than anything, so Yosuke takes advantage of the situation.

When he gurgles a burp so strong it gets him killed in-game, he decides to take a break. His phone reads half-past ten and he’s surprised how absorbed he’d gotten for so much time to pass without his notice. He mutters a curse without any heat, setting an alarm for work tomorrow (another opening shift, stretched past afternoon and into the evening), and pads out of his room to go brush his teeth.

He’s smacked in the face with the sight of Yu, his best friend, his ride-or-die, his _partner_ , kissing Kei Katsukawa.

To be honest, he doesn’t really register what he’s seeing until they pull apart, Yu having noticed Yosuke’s presence. He bears it stoically, as always, but Kei seems to be struggling, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s speaking without words.

Yosuke can relate. It takes him a solid fifteen seconds to say, “My bad,” and sprint to the bathroom.

The door slams.

He whines softly into the mirror. “What,” he whispers. “ _What_.” His head hangs. “The fuck.”

Rationalization: maybe Yu hadn’t initiated. Reality: his hand had been wrapped securely around the back of Kei’s neck. Even if he hadn’t been the first one to lean in, it had definitely been… reciprocated.

_But Yu’s not gay._

And then, vaguely, suddenly, he remembers what he’d asked in high school. _“So… what do you think about Yukiko and Chie? I mean, let's not mince words: Which one's your type?”_

_“Neither.”_

Yu never had plans on Valentine’s Day, nor did he ever describe his outings with Ai or Ayane or anybody else as something even remotely non-platonic. Hell, he had _Risette_ hanging off of his arm day-in and day-out. In fact, Yu didn’t seem romantically inclined at _all_ , a behavior that left Yosuke feeling a bit disappointed. What’s a good bromance without girl-talk?

Well—now he knows _why_. All this time, Yu’s been… like that. Has he spoken to anybody about it? Do their friends know? Does… does _anybody_ know?

Kei Katsukawa certainly does.

On autopilot, he coats his toothbrush and shoves the bristles into his mouth. His throat’s gone dry, so he gurgles a cup of water and spits it into the sink. Inhaling, exhaling, he steps away from the mirror and thinks of leaving the bathroom. And then he thinks about how _awful_ of an idea that is, so he slides his body down against the door until he’s sitting snug on the cold expanse of gaudy tile.

Now that he’s past the initial shock of what he’d just seen, he registers a low and bubbling anger in his chest. Why didn’t Yu ever say anything? Why is he finding out like _this_? Aren’t they supposed to be best friends? Best friends _know_ these things about each other!

And what’s so special about Kei, anyhow? Yosuke highly doubts that his knowledge and familiarity of Yu comes anywhere _close_ to Yosuke’s. Does he understand Yu’s need for emotional space? Is he aware that Yu has a _really_ skewed sense of humor? Can he handle how little Yu speaks and maintain, essentially, a one-sided conversation?

Yosuke decides that Kei isn’t good enough.

It’s not like he’s afraid of being replaced. … Okay, _actually_ , he is; it’s a fear that’s been so deeply ingrained even long before he met Yu. What happens months from now, when Yu decides he’s in love? What if he already is? How soon will he move away? When is Yosuke going to become another phone number in his contact list, left untouched for days, months, _years_?

Unbidden, his thoughts return to Kei. He must be pretty smart to keep up with Yu’s classes (something that Yosuke failed to do, ha). He’s well-mannered, too. Actually, from first glance, he seems a lot like Yu. Maybe that’s why they get along so well…

A knock jolts him out of his reverie.

“Yosuke?”

He curses and scrambles to his feet, a hand flying to his hair in distress. “Uh huh?” he replies, pitched high.

“Are you alright?”

“Just fine!”

“Can I talk to you?”

He bangs his forehead against the door and offers no explanation of the noise. Then, he opens it. Yu looks oddly disoriented, and Yosuke pretends it has nothing to do with what he’d caught him doing earlier.

When Yosuke doesn’t say anything, Yu does. And he’s not sure what he was expecting, but an apology wasn’t it. “I’m sorry,” he says, head hanging. “I thought you were already asleep, but I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ve always kept this sort of thing out of sight, so we wouldn’t bother you...”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Yosuke interrupts, rising in volume. He speaks over Yu. “This is a _regular thing_? But this is the first time I’ve ever met Katsukawa.”

“I’ve had other people over on occasion.”

He has. A coworker from one of Yu’s many part-time jobs, once, and even an old acquaintance from his younger days in the city, a former classmate.  Most of the time Yosuke only catches them on their way out, just after he’s finished a shift. If he had a clearer mind, he might appreciate that Yu tends to shape his schedule around Yosuke, never interfering with their evenings together.

Tonight had been an exception. There was schoolwork involved.

Unless that was just a cover…?

Yosuke shakes his head, exasperated. “You mean to tell me that all this time, they’ve been…” He flounders. “Your… boyfriends? How come you’ve never said you like dudes?”

“They weren’t. Kei isn’t, either.” He opens his mouth again to speak, like he has further explanation, but then snaps it shut as if he decides Yosuke doesn’t need to hear the full story. _This_ is what aggravates Yosuke the most: the wall that Yu’s putting up between them.

“You should have said something,” he emphasizes, fingers curling around the door frame.

Yu’s eyes turn steely and unfriendly. “Why? So you could’ve found another roommate?” Yosuke’s gaze flickers down to Yu’s hands, which have clenched into fists. “Do you not feel _safe_ anymore?”

Yosuke is taken aback for a number of reasons. Yu’s tone is rarely hostile—it takes a special kind of asshole to drag that part of him to the surface. Not to mention… he’s throwing Yosuke’s own words, dated and regretted, into his face. Something he’d said out of ignorance and stupidity to poor Kanji, who barely registered the accusation in the first place.

“That’s not…” His voice cracks. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so distraught. He must be a pretty shitty friend if Yu’s worried Yosuke will shun him away.

Yu softens at once, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to say, even if it might be true.”

“It’s not!” Yosuke hastens to reassure. “Dude, no. I wouldn’t change a thing about this arrangement, and I’m _not_ worried you’re gonna… I don’t know, check me out when I’m looking the other way. I was just caught off guard, y’know?”

Yu doesn’t look placated, skepticism keeping his brows furrowed.

“Things won’t be weird?” he asks after a beat.

Yosuke still needs time to process, to accept and adapt, but at the very least… he can (try to) compartmentalize. He’d do anything for Yu; if that means pretending that tonight never happened, then so be it. “Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Things get weird. 

Yu can tell that Yosuke is trying. He’s loyal to his loved ones, nearly to a fault, and it’s always been endearing. An _actor_ , however, Yosuke is not. He’s so expressive, and not just in the face; his fingers, long and thin, fidget and splay, curl and gesture; his shoulders, bony as they are, hunch as he pouts and stiffen when he’s uncomfortable.

Yu’s not extroverted. He’s social, sure, and enjoys having company above all else. But he’s always been the type to keep his emotions in check, to… not feel much at all. It’s a kind of repression he doesn’t really register as it happens. Like a habit.

Most of the time, it’s convenient. It’s blessedly simple to say “Living together after high school is fiscally advantageous” rather than admit he’d endorsed the idea so insistently because he was _lonely_ , craved the presence of his closest friend. It’s easier to say nothing at all, after Yosuke had caught him kissing Kei, than to explain how it really _hadn’t_ meant anything—that Yu, Kei, and many others… find basic comfort in sharing physical contact with somebody who accepts it.

He doesn’t tell Yosuke that Kei is in love with his (very straight) childhood friend. He doesn’t tell Yosuke that _he’s_ in love with him.

Because, while Yosuke is dealing with this better than Yu had expected, he knows a lost cause when he sees one.

 

* * *

 

Yosuke wonders when the other shoe will drop. 

He’s taken Yu and placed him beneath a microscope as if furiously attempting to find The Gay Gene. Has he always been like this? Rather—how long? Since Inaba? Before Inaba? Is it the fact that Yu is so discrete, or Yosuke is so obtuse? It’s frustrating, to think he’s been ignorant to a large facet of who Yu is. But even now, with this knowledge, things are… exactly the same as they’d been before.

They explore the city together; they eat Yu’s expertly crafted dinner. They talk and they complain like the young adults they are. Yu looks, physically, the same as always. Still, Yosuke feels himself maintain a snippy mood, and that’s even _more_ irritating because he recognizes how unpleasant he’s being but can’t do anything to stop it.

On his day off, he calls Kanji.

“Senpai?”

“Am I homophobic?” he says by way of greeting.

“Ah… huh… well, yeah. Why do you ask?”

He balks. “Jeez! You could’ve at least _pretended_ to think your answer over!”

“Sorry?” comes Kanji’s characteristically baffled reply. “I just thought it was pretty obvious.”

Great. He’s _obviously_ homophobic. No wonder Yu hadn’t bothered to mention his orientation. “Hey, let me ask you something else: did you know? About Yu?” Kanji’s density is a blessing and a curse. If he doesn’t know what Yosuke’s getting at, that’s fine. He’s not trying to _out_ Yu. But if he does…

“… Yeah,” says Kanji. “But not until after he’d moved out of Inaba. He called me up outta the blue and asked about my crush on Naoto. It felt like he’d been trying to find a delicate way to ask what it _meant_ , me likin’ a girl, so I told him I guess it meant I’m bi. And he goes, ‘Me too,’ and the rest is history.”

Distantly, he’s proud of Kanji for speaking so candidly about his retired affection for Naoto. Kouhai. They grow up so fast.

“Huh. Wait, bi? I thought he didn’t like girls at all.”

“Look, I don’t know if I feel comfortable speculating Senpai’s preferences, alright? But that’s what he said. That, and the fact that he had feelings for some dude, which is how he knew about himself.”

“Did he say who?” Yosuke presses, eager to know and, quite frankly, a little (a lot) betrayed that he was never let in on the secret.

Kanji releases a noise of distress. “N-Now wait just a minute! I just _said_ I’m not tryin’ to be a gossip!” He sounds a little mean, then, as he adds, “And—no offense—but I don’t wanna add fuel to the fire.”

“Say wha?”

“You must’a just found out, right? Senpai’s mentioned before that he’d prefer you never knew.”

“Why the hell not?”

“How should I know?” he barks back. “But he’s gotta have a reason, and I ain’t telling you more than he has!" 

Yosuke doesn’t mention that Kanji had just given him quite a bit of new information to stew over. He doesn’t really have the chance, anyway, because Kanji hangs up on him before he can even open his mouth.

He sighs, tossing his phone to the side, and reclines against his pillows.

“Fuck,” he grinds out in a hiss, frustration surfacing yet again. “Fuck it!”

He snatches up his phone again and texts Yu. He’s in class, and it’s very likely he won’t respond, but maybe that’s for the better.

 _> Im sry dude._  
_ > for everything. How I acted that night + the fact that u didn’t feel comfortable telling me in the 1st place._  
_> Ur still my partner. U can makeout with anyone ok? __Don’t feel like u have to tiptoe around me just 2 b happy._

He’s a coward. He should’ve waited until Yu got home and talked to him like an _adult_ , with no screens serving as a shield. He wants to send more, beg, _please believe me, I swear I’m being sincere, I’m just—_

Weak.

He lifts his hands to his face, skin crawling. His blanket feels scratchy against his elbows and he aches to scream but he’s already gotten too many noise complaints from the neighbors during his impromptu jam sessions. He presses his palms against his eyelids until spots burst throughout the darkness.

His phone buzzes and it’s like a trigger. Anxiety gives way to panic and he can only stare, vision peppered with black splotches, at the _1 New Message_ notification. Mocking him.

It takes a few moments of shaking hands and difficult breaths to open it.

_> Thank you, Yosuke.  
> That means a lot to me. Really._

No. _No_. His fingers work like they’ve stemmed from his heart, typing and sending a response before Yosuke can register what he’s doing.

_> DONT thank me!!!! SRSLY, PARTNER! I made it sound like I was giving u permission nd that’s just stupid u shldnt have to LISTEN to me like that in fact just forget my guilttripping ass even texted u 2nite ok haha_

He has to make it right. He has to make sure that Yu knows Yosuke accepts him wholeheartedly; he can’t let wariness evolve into distaste, when he decides that he’s better off with somebody who doesn’t bat an eye at Yu’s preferences.

 _And then you’ll be all alone again_.

Yu’s response is even quicker this time—in the form of a phone call.

He squeaks at his phone, nearly jamming his finger on the _ignore_ button. Yu calls again, and he answers.

“Yosuke? Are you okay?”

He does a pretty awful job at sounding composed, but it’s a valiant attempt. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I stepped outside. You didn’t answer my question.” His voice is low and soft. Is the pitch intentional? Yu’s always been pleasant to listen to…

“I’m fine. Jeez, you didn’t have to do that. Aren’t you missing some important stuff?” The shake of his voice gives way to a laugh, uneven and stilted.

There’s some shuffling on Yu’s end. Adjusting his bag? Walking? Yosuke can’t tell; he’s hyper-focused on Yu’s words, desperately searching for the tells, the signs he should’ve noticed whenever he spoke to Saki-senpai. The thinly veiled disgust and reluctance, _obligation_ to maintain a conversation.

“Nothing that isn’t covered in the book.” He pauses. “Yosuke…” Again, he stops, perhaps thinking better of what he was about to say. “What would you like for dinner?”

“H-Huh?”

“We still have enough at home to make oyako donburi. Does that sound good?”

Yosuke realizes, belatedly, that he hasn’t eaten today. He’d attributed his stomach pain to his uneasiness. “That sounds incredible. G… Gah, I’ve been on my ass all day, I should be the one cooking. Is there anything I can do to prep?”

“Hm… Please take the chicken out of the fridge.” 

He snorts. “Wow, thanks for trusting me with that kind of responsibility. And, hey, isn’t it a little soon? You’ve still got an hour left of class, don’t you?”

“I’m on my way back.”

He sits up abruptly. “What? Seriously? That’s… You don’t have to…”

Words fail him. Of course Yu doesn’t have to. But he’d noticed Yosuke’s distress and didn’t hesitate to return to him, like he always has, always _does_.

_I’m an idiot. Worrying over nothing…_

Feeling guilty but pleased, he smiles when Yu murmurs, “I do,” like nothing else would please him more.

 

* * *

 

He’s over it.

A changed man, if you will, with a new outlook on life. Goodbye, old Yosuke, hello, _better Yosuke_ —who’s open-minded and far less clingy. If the TV world were still relevant, he thinks Takehaya Susano-o would be evolving yet again.

Maybe he still tends to overanalyze here and there. He has to tell himself _not_ to pick apart the characteristics of Yu’s latest not-boyfriend, even if his burning curiosity is hard to ignore. What is it about _this_ guy? Is it his looks? His personality? Does he have a good sense of humor?

 _Apparently so_ , he thinks, watching from the kitchen as Yu huffs a laugh into his hand. He hadn’t heard what his company said because he’d leaned into Yu’s ear to whisper it, but that’s fine.

He startles himself with how hard he slams the cabinet closed.

The boys on the couch had, apparently, already eaten, which means Yosuke’s on his own tonight. He curbs any and all effort and resigns himself to instant ramen. He stares at the pot, willing the water to boil faster while his foot taps impatiently against the linoleum.

Belatedly, he notices his arms crossed tight over his torso—a defense mechanism he thought he’d discarded back in high school.

 _God. I really am a grade-A douche, huh? I can’t stand to be around them_.

Yu’s laugh echoes once more throughout the apartment. Yosuke feels simultaneously warmed and chilled.

And then: the distinct sound of a kiss. “Daichi,” says Yu, reproachful (but it’s a fond kind of exasperation, Yosuke would know, he’s intimately familiar with that tone)—

He flicks off the burner and empties out the water, leaving the pan in the sink. He’ll take care of it later.

Suddenly, he’s not feeling very hungry anymore.

Hiding in his room makes him feel marginally better, though restlessness edges at the tips of his fingers. He cycles through strumming at his guitar, scrolling through his phone, and leafing through a magazine; the third time he picks up his phone, he calls Rise.

“Yosuke-senpai?” She sounds just as surprised as Kanji had. Is it because he still bothers to call people, rather than simply text? He likes the sound of his friends’ voices; it’s less impersonal than words on a screen. Perhaps, maybe, he’d have stayed in better contact with his peers in the city if he’d bothered to phone them up.

“The one and only. How’s it been?”

“Great! In fact, I wish I could give you more of my time, but I can really only spare… um… ten minutes? You should’ve warned me!” Is that genuine disappointment he hears? That’s sweet. He feels better already.

“Haha, chill. Feel free to call me when you’ve got more time, alright? I’m not doing anything tonight.” He hopes he’s doing a better job at keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

Apparently not. “What’s Yu-senpai doing?”

“He’s, uh. He has somebody over.”

Rise goes very, very quiet. “Oh. Um, is… are they…”

 _They_. She knows, too. He curses. Of _course she knows_. Yosuke’s probably the last to know, and that’s fair. He deserves that. “Yeah. I think he’s a year below Yu.” If the teasing quips of _Yu-senpai, Yu-senpai_ are anything to go by.

Shit, is that why he called Rise?

There’s another pause, like Rise doesn’t know what to say. “Are you okay with it? I admit, it was… a pretty big shock for me, back in high school.” She laughs, a bubble of nerves that reminds Yosuke of himself. “I was caught off-guard, him turning me down so abruptly! I hadn’t even confessed… and then— _god_ , I was awful! I panicked and said something about it being _cool_ that I had a gay friend, like he was my accessory!”

He hadn’t meant to distress her, but he can’t help his relief. “Good to know I wasn’t the only one who reacted like an idiot.”

“Hey!”

He laughs, and she does too. Man, he misses her. “… I mean… shit. If he’d told me back in Inaba, I might’ve said some really dumb stuff that I wouldn’t have been able to take back. At first, I was _pissed_. He’s not, I dunno, _obligated_ to come out or anything, but—! I wished he’d trusted me. Now… I get it. I wouldn’t have trusted me either.”

“Yosuke-senpai…”

“It’s okay. I really _am_ fine with it, y’know? I like to think that I’ve matured since then. But…”

When he can’t find words to match his feelings, he releases a frustrated sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just…” He laughs, and it sounds pathetic. “It bothers me. _Not_ —that. It’s something else…”

Rise gasps. “Oh." 

He sits up. “What? What’s with the epiphany?”

“This conversation _really_ should’ve waited until after my appointment!” She takes another deep breath. “Are you jealous?”

“Wh… of Yu? Because he’s getting some? Not really. I’ve had a few—”

“Of Yu-senpai’s dates.”

His throat dries up. Very, very carefully, he ventures, “B-Because they’re monopolizing his time? Haha… I mean, sure, it’s been a little lonely around here, but…”

Rise’s voice is soft. “I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

 _What are you saying?_ he wants to shout, but the truth is… he knows exactly what she’s getting at. And while his first instinct is to deny, he’s lost the capacity to speak, staring widely at nothing.

“I have to go,” she adds regretfully. “We’ll talk later, okay? If you want? Just—take some time to think it over. And for the love of God, please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Love you too,” he croaks, dredging up what’s left of his capacity for sarcasm.

She giggles, and then she’s gone. Yosuke listens to the despondent line until his phone ends the call.

Shit.

He wants to go back into the living room and take a good look at Yu, just to remind himself that he’s not physically attracted to his best friend. Yu’s handsome—pretty, at times, although Yosuke’s not sure that line of thinking will help him very much—but that doesn’t mean…

It’s objectively speaking, right?

 _Don’t do anything stupid_.

That’d be pretty stupid. And weird. Daichi would look up at Yosuke and nudge Yu, murmur something about how bizarre his roommate is, just staring at them like that.

Besides, what if he caught them kissing? The first time was bad enough. Now that he’s got this _idea_ in his head, courtesy of Rise, it’d be a struggle _not_ to associate the action with her words—replace Daichi with himself, like a simulation, and consider how he’d feel.

He imagines his lips brushing Yu's. It’d be quick, careful; Yu knows Yosuke better than anybody, so it’s only natural that he’d show a little caution for Yosuke’s sake. The sentiment embarrasses him, makes him want to argue and insist that he doesn’t need to be treated like glass, but he _does_ , he needs that famed Narukami Patience when it comes to this because he never, ever thought he’d be considering… _doing_ …

…

In the morning, his stomach aches with something that’s probably hunger, but he can’t find his appetite. The idea of going to work is less appealing than usual.

Yu’s still asleep (lucky bastard gets the weekends off), and Yosuke notices that there’s not an extra pair of shoes by the door, which comes as such a relief it’s almost overwhelming. True to her word, Rise had called back last night, and while they didn’t exactly delve into what she’d hinted at earlier, he _did_ compose his thoughts into something more manageable.

It’s very possible that, maybe, Yosuke has feelings for Yu that aren’t strictly platonic.

It could be that, despite everything, it’s not the idea of Yu kissing boys that upsets him so deeply. It’s the fact those boys _aren’t him_.

A lot to take in? Definitely. He needs time to process, to dispel the nerves and familiarize himself with the concept of wanting to date his best friend, his _partner_.

On autopilot, he gets ready for work while compiling a mental list of what he’d be okay with.

  * Staying by Yu’s side for a very long time, possibly forever.
  * ~~Living together.~~ (Duh. Been there, done that.)
  * Telling their friends. (The chiding he’d get from Chie would last _eons_ , but he decides it’d be worth it.)
  * Kissing Yu. ( _That_ one had taken an hour of Rise assuring him that, at the very least, it could simply be considered a curiosity. Yu’s lips always look so _soft_ , right?)
  * _More_ than kissing Yu?????



That’s right around where Yosuke’s brain begins to short-circuit, because he doesn’t _know_ ; he’s still so inexperienced. Fumbling around with a girl here and there does not a Casanova make—but everything else he does with Yu is so _amazing_ , it’d only make sense that…

Crap. He’s gonna be late for work.

He slips on his shoes just as Yu slinks out of his room, still looking like he hasn’t yet woken up. His hair’s mussed to hell and back, sweatpants tilted out of shape—and Yosuke pushes away the visceral impulse to guide Yu right back to his bed and lie down _with_ him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says instead.

“Mmph.” Yu squints toward the kitchen, peering at it almost analytically (which is stupid, because he just woke up), and looks back at Yosuke. “What time do you get off of work today…?”

“Five.”

He nods, decisive. “I’ll have dinner ready.”

Yosuke thinks of Yu’s cooking and decides he doesn’t care whether or not his appetite returns by tonight. He’ll eat anything his partner makes. “I ever tell you that you’re a saint?”

Yu’s lips twitch into a smile—lilted, teasing. “I could stand to hear it more often.”

“Ha. Don’t count on it,” Yosuke retorts, rubbing the back of his neck. Why the hell does his face feel so warm? They always say shit like this to each other—so why does it suddenly feel like _flirting_? Whatever. Either way, he ruins it. “What happened to what’s-his-face?”

“Daichi?” Yu rearranges the stuff on the kitchen counter, busying his hands. “I wouldn’t sleep with him, so he left.”

Yosuke’s eyes go wide. “ _What_?”

“We haven’t known each other for very long, so I didn’t trust him enough to—”

“No, _no_ —that’s… you don’t have to explain your reasons for _not_ wanting to have sex, dude. You don’t even _need_ a reason.” His face twists in repulsion. “But he just—left? Because of that? What an asshole.”

Yu shrugs like it’s not a big deal (it’s probably not, to Yu) and Yosuke sighs before checking his phone.

“Gah, I’m gonna get reamed I don’t head out now. Text me if you need me to grab anything before I leave work, alright? And, uh—if you wanna talk about this later, I’m. Um. All ears.”

Yu looks pleased beneath his exasperation. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I didn’t like him very much to begin with.”

 _Why?_ he wants to ask. His curiosity burns so brightly that it must show on his face, because Yu shakes his head in amusement before ushering him out the door.

He slips his headphones over his ears to block out the sound of traffic, blasting his favorite song and (nervously, but not hesitantly) _accepting_ the relation between his good mood and Daichi’s lack of involvement in Yu’s life.

 

* * *

 

As promised, Yu manages to finish up cooking dinner just as Yosuke returns home from work. 

He toes off his shoes and slides his feet into slippers, absorbing the sounds (the fryer, hell yes, he hopes it’s katsudon) and smells ( _hell_ yes, that’s definitely broth)—and, lastly, the sight of Yu moving around the kitchen in his weird cat apron (which Yosuke had bought for his birthday, so he can’t fault anybody but himself for that one).

“I’m home,” he greets.

Yu perks up. “Welcome home.”

Yosuke ventures into the kitchen, motioning to grab his bowl so he can assemble everything together, but Yu cuts him off with a pretty vicious glare.

“Go sit down.”

He watches Yu take the bowl from Yosuke’s hands. “Wh—you don’t have to wait on me hand and feet, partner. And I’m definitely taking care of the dishes tonight, so don’t even.”

Yu waves him off. “That’s fine.” He shovels heap after heap of rice into Yosuke’s bowl and piles on enough meat to rival Aiya’s rainy day special. Is that what he wanted? To proportion Yosuke’s food…? Sometimes he takes pride in deciphering Yu’s weird habits, but this time he gives up and lets him do as he pleases.

"You done?"

He regards Yosuke with one more look before returning the dish.

Yosuke rolls his eyes. He grabs a drink from the fridge and meanders to the table, waiting for Yu to join him before giving thanks for the food. After a long day, _nothing_ beats sitting down next to his best friend and eating dinner together.

“How was work?” Yu asks.

“A customer asks one of the part-timers for a manager, right? So I get paged to electronics and as soon as this guy sees me, he’s already losing his mind. Y’know, the whole spiel about me being just a kid who’s not worthy of his respect. But that’s not the worst of it; I get that shit all the time. He starts complaining about this candle smell, which is just an air freshener we have tucked out of sight, demanding to know how I can handle such fake smells.” He snorts. “’Do you like being fake? You don’t like fake movies, do you? Or all that fake music with the same four chords? Wait, of course you do!’”

Yu has to rest his chopsticks in their tray, laughter preventing him from eating.

“It was ridiculous. He just went on and on.” He scrambles to think of another story (he has plenty, which is the blessing and curse of customer service) if only to keep Yu smiling.

When they finish eating, Yosuke collapses onto the couch and groans.

“ _Man_. I promise I’ll get to the dishes at some point. I’m so freakin’ _stuffed_ , I can barely move. Why’d you have to give me so much?”

Yu sits down next to him but avoids meeting his eyes. “I was worried.”

Yosuke lifts his head up a bit. “Huh?"

“You haven’t been eating.”

Oh. “You noticed? I mean, it’s not like I was doing it intentionally. I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately…”

“Which is a side effect of your anxiety. And you lose weight so quickly, it's easy to tell.” He turns to Yosuke, then, looking concerned. “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing it, but I have to ask: are you alright?”

He takes a moment to consider his response. These past few weeks have been varying stages of _alright_ , that’s for sure, and it’s hard to deny the attacks he’d had over his own paranoia. But— _now_ , here, with Yu by his side and his stomach full of food, sitting in the apartment they share, content in the knowledge that he maybe-definitely is in love with the person who’s changed him for the better—

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I really am.”

And then he kisses Yu.

 _Soft_. He’s not disappointed to find that his speculation had hit the mark. His nose brushes Yu’s cheek (flushed) and he grips Yu’s shoulders (tense) like—

He pulls away. _Tense_ isn’t what he wants to feel.

“Oh, God, I—” Just because Yu likes guys doesn’t mean he likes _Yosuke_ , and he didn’t even _think_ before acting, stealing a kiss and humiliating himself in the process. How did he fail to consider the possibility that Yu might be repulsed by the idea of being with Yosuke, might decide they shouldn’t live together anymore? _Thanks, separation anxiety, for letting me down when I need you!_

He can barely see through squinted eyes as he cringes, but Yu’s hands are warm around his wrists, not gripping but _holding_ , steadying, and Yosuke remembers how to breathe.

“Yosuke,” he says, slipping those hands down to Yosuke’s. He intertwines their fingers, palms pressed flat against one another. “Was that…” he trails off, eyes flickering to the minuscule space between them before returning to Yosuke’s face, searching. “What was that?”

“I like you,” tumbles out of his mouth like an avalanche, and so do the rest of his feelings. “I think I’ve liked you for—a long time. Way before I could’ve ever realized it. Seeing you with those guys made me so _jealous_ , because _I_ want to be the one who makes you smile like that, partner. I want to hear your private laugh and—and even… the gasps you make after a kiss, and…” He whines. “I can’t believe I’m saying stuff like this.” He almost wishes Yu wasn’t holding onto his hands so he could drape them over his searing hot face like a safety blanket.

Yu stares at him in unmistakable shock. His lips are parted.

“Please say something,” Yosuke begs.

He doesn’t. His forehead flops against Yosuke’s chest instead, suspended by their arms as if that’s the only thing stopping him from plastering his entire body to Yosuke’s.

Yosuke can feel him breathe, slow and steady, until it’s anything but that. Belatedly, he realizes that Yu is shaking.

“W-Whoa, are you okay? Dude…”

He pries his hands from Yu’s and wraps his arms around his best friend’s shoulders, hoping he still has the right to do so. Yu speaks, although it’s muffled and soft. Yosuke strains to hear, tipping his head down and inadvertently brushing their cheeks together.

“I never thought,” Yu whispers, “I’d hear you say that.”

He sounds relieved. _Thank fucking God_. Yosuke pushes him upright to see Yu’s pale skin distorted by a messy pink blush, his mouth twisted into a smile of disbelief.

“Does that mean…?” Yosuke asks, trying to keep the puppy dog-eagerness to a minimum and, ultimately, failing.

Yu pushes him onto his back, and it’s not very abrupt because Yosuke goes down willingly. He presses a kiss to Yosuke’s mouth, and then another, over and over until Yosuke’s laugh breaks the contact.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. So, y’know. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Yu doesn’t speak. Neither of them do, for a while.


End file.
